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The Dragon vs the Hammerites; Making a Temple a Furnace
Topic Started: Dec 21 2017, 06:32 PM (128 Views)
ThunderMage
Vault dweller
[ *  * ]
Drake stood in Brick’s famous brothel, but he was not there for a drink or women, he was there for work. Drake stared at the bounty board. On the board were three bounties, however, Drake had trouble understanding them. One had a picture of an attractive woman but the other two had nothing but words. He stared at the posters. He was gathering a few words here and there, but nothing useful. “Something something something bandits something something get rid of something something reward.” That was about as useful as saying “I live in the desert,” when you are in the desert.

“Hey, muscle-head, hurry up, will ya? Real hunters need to look at the board!”
Drake turned around to see an unimpressive ganger type. His mohawk was red and he wore a leather jacket. Drake turned back to the board.
“Hey! Shit-for-brains! Don’t ignore me! Hey! Hey!” The ganger picked up a bottle and hit Drake’s back. The bottle shattered over his armor.
Drake turned to the ganger with a deathly stare. The ganger looked at Drake with a confident smile.

The unfortunate thing about a fight within an establishment is that someone has to clean it up, and that person is probably paid next to nothing. Drake wiped the blood off his hands. The bartender frowned at Drake, not because he probably gave one of the patrons a concussion, but that the over-sized man was not buying anything. “Hey buddy!” The bartender shouted at Drake, “Either buy something or get out.”
Drake ripped one of the two pictureless bounties off the board and walked up to the bar. “What does this say?”
The bartender stared at him. “I am a bartender, not your mom.”
Drake threw ten caps on the table. The bartender stared at these capped, raised an eyebrow, and then stared at Drake once more. “… Fine, I’ll read the stupid bounty if you just take it and leave.” Drake nods. The bartender grabs the bounty and reads it to Drake.

“Where is it?” Drake says almost instantly after the bartender finished reading the bounty.
“Northwest of Brick.”
“Which way is northwest?”
“It is north and west at the same time.”
“But which way is that?”
“I don’t know! Why don’t you get a compass and find out?!”
“Where would I get a compass?”
“GET OUT!”
“Ya didn’t-“
“OUT!”

Drake left the brothel and stared at the bounty. “Hammerites? They don’t sound like they be causin’ trouble. Just a group of excited workers. But who am I to question good paying work?” Drake wandered town looking for someone to give him directions. This took about an hour or so, as anyone in their right mind avoided the giant of a man. Eventually, he came across some drugged up man. He lay next to a wall.

“Woahhhhh, dude, I never thought I would see a super mutant…”
“A what?” Drake leans down to meet the man.
“You know man, a super mutant! You do know what you guys are called… right?”
“What are ya on about?” Drake heard rumors of “super mutants” but he heard they were green. “I don’t have green skin, see? Not a super mutant”
The man stared bug-eyed at Drake. “Yoooo! I never thought I would see an albino super mutant.”
Drake rolls his eyes. “Which way is northwest?”
“Just head past the massive sign with “Danger” on it and you should see two green tents. Those tents are northwest my man!”
“Thanks.” Drake stands up and goes northwest to the temple.
Drake "Dragon" Esher
Level 1
S:9 P:6 E:9 C:3 I:5 A:3 L:5
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/952595/1/
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ThunderMage
Vault dweller
[ *  * ]
Drake went northwest for a while. He was not great with “hours and minutes” as most people say, but he is good with time. It was midday earlier, now it a good while after that… whatever that translates into. In front of him stands a temple made out of bricks. Drake expected a temple that worshiped bricks based on the description. Once again, not sure why Brick sees them as a threat. Are they against organized religion? Or do they dislike the competition? Whatever it may be, Drake had to follow through with the bounty, or else he would look bad.

In front of the temple stand two men. They are wearing russet (reddish-brown) jumpsuits with leather aprons over top. On the back of the jumpsuits is a branding of two hammers crossing over each other. Drake approaches these two men. Drake is ready to be attacked. “Maybe these people are hostile to outsiders?” Drake thinks to himself, “Maybe that is why Brick wants them gone?”

One of the two guards see Drake and approaches him. Drake is ready to strike the approaching individual. “Hail traveler!” The guard says in a friendly voice, “What brings you to our humble temple?”
Drake is caught off guard. They are being… friendly? Drake does not answer, mostly due to disbelief.
“Not much of a talker, are you? Well, welcome to the Temple of The Great Sculptor! Have you come to pay your respects to The Great Sculptor?”
“Who is ‘The Great Sculptor?’” Drake broke his silence.
“Why The Great Sculptor is our creator! He fashioned humanity from clay! He breathed life into the first humans millenniums ago! I could go into greater detail, but Father Jericho does it more justice!”
“Who is Father Jericho?”
“He is the founder of the Temple of The Great Sculptor! He founded it a few months ago and we have been building it ever since!” The guard looks at Drake’s back, “Is that a flamethrower…?”
Drake looks at his baby, “Yep, she ‘n’ I go way back!”
“Oh! Have you come to help with the construction of the Temple?”
A charismatic man would lie and say “yes,” but Drake was bad at lying, nor did he see a reason to. “No, I’m ‘ere on behalf of the town of Brick.”
“Have they finally come to officially recognize us as an official religion?” The guard beamed.
“No… I’m ‘ere to tell ya that ya gotta leave or I’ll make ya leave.”
The guards cheerful disposition evaporates instantly. “Oh… let me discuss this with Father Jericho…” The guard leaves his friend to guard the door.

Drake took a seat on a nearby rock. He went about polishing his flamethrower. The other guard stares nervously at Drake. At least an hour passes and the first guard has yet to return.
“N-nice weather we are having” the second guard stutters.
Drake does not respond.
“It’s nice when it’s not a radstorm. We don’t have protection from the radstorms in the temple, so we often have to go to one of the lower levels. Father Jericho usually stays in the temple, since The Great Sculptor protects him.”
No response.
“You know, it is tiring work trying to dig up the entirety of the lower levels. We are at least a few hundred feet now! Probably… You know we h-“
“Why are ya makin’ small talk with me?”
“huh?”
“Ya know either ya people leave ‘n’ never return or I gotta kill all of ya, right? I ain’t ‘ere to make friends.”
“R-right…”

More time passes. Eventually the first guard returns with two other men. “Father Jericho has a counter offer.” Drake stands up, flamethrower in his hands. “Either you leave and we forget this happened or we kill you.”
“And people say I’m shit at negotiation,” Drake chuckled.
“Excuse me?”
Drake readies his flamethrower. The guards pull out hammers, one pulls out a handgun. “Last chance stranger! No one has to die!”
“That is where ya wrong.”
Drake goes to light up the flamethrowers, the guard with a gun points it at Drake and pulls the trigger. The bullet jams in the chamber. The three-other guards charge Drake as he lights up his flamethrower. The fire leaps out of his flamethrower, lighting the four guards on fire. All of this happens in the span of a few seconds. They try to put themselves out, but to no avail. They all succumb to the fire. Drake picks over the four burnt bodies and finds three stempacks, one on each guard except one, who is so badly burnt, nothing could be found on him.

He opens the doors to the church, revealing a mostly empty chapel. Wooden pews fill the room. A metal pulpit clearly made out of an old music stand and some scrap metal stands on a raised platform. A figure is painted on the wall behind the pulpit. The figure is of a faceless man holding a chisel in his right hand and a hammer in his left. The man has a halo above his head. He has his arms out stretched at a 45º angle. “Must be The Great Sculptor they keep goin’ on about. Not sure why they would trust a faceless man to sculpt humanity… maybe that is why it is so messed up.” He snickers at his own joke. Drake looks around for the entrance to the lower levels the guard mentioned. He starts lifting the pews and knocking on walls with his pipe. Eventually he finds the very obvious wooden trap door on the other side of the pulpit. “Why didn’t I check this earlier? Of course, it’s behind the pulpit, and not under one of the benches.” Drake opens the hatch and climbs down into the pits below.

Edited by ThunderMage, Feb 8 2018, 01:28 PM.
Drake "Dragon" Esher
Level 1
S:9 P:6 E:9 C:3 I:5 A:3 L:5
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/952595/1/
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ThunderMage
Vault dweller
[ *  * ]
Drake descends the ladder into the dimly lit tunnel. Oil lanterns hang off the walls. Drake takes one, just in case. The tunnels have brick floors and brick walls. It is a long winding hallway that seems to go downwards. “How do they get to the mud pit from here?” Drake looks at the bounty again. He still has trouble with the words, but seems to pick up some of the important ones and the general idea that the bartender told him. “Wait… this ‘gang’ sounds different from the Hammerites… so I’m doin’ a gang’s dirty work?” He shrugs. “That makes more since. I doubt Brick would really care who owns which pit, as long as they’re payin’ their dues.” Drake decides to continue to say he represents the town of Brick, since he does not even know this “gang.”

Drake enters a large room that forks into two paths. The two paths have signs, the left one has five letters and there right has four. The only letters they share are the last letter. Drake looks down the right hallway. The hallway is made of clay with wooden support beams. At the other end of the hallway is an open metal garage door, a blinding light on the other side. The tunnels to the right and left are much wider than the hallway he had just wandered through. He walks down the tunnel; his eyes adjusting to the light. Once his eyes adjust to the world around him, he realizes where he is. It is the mud pits.

Half a dozen Hammerites are tolling away, using shovels to dig up the clay, hauling it off in wheelbarrows. A metal watch tower over looks the place. A banner baring the Hammerite’s emblem hangs over each of the side of the tower’s railing. In the watch tower is a man wearing a Brahmin skull. If Drake could see far enough, he would see that the left eye socket of the Brahmin-skull is covered by a metal plate with a target on it. The man is wielding a pipe rifle with a crudely made scope.

“That must be Father Jericho. Cults ‘n’ animal skulls, a popular combination.” Drake’s flamethrower is at the ready. One of the Hammerites attempts to roll a wheelbarrow past him. Drake’s all too eager to make the man’s mistake clear. The flamethrower lights the Hammerite up in seconds. The others hear their friend’s screams of agony. Four of the Hammerite’s pull out their weapons, three hammers and one pulls out a pipe rifle. The fifth Hammerite drops his shovel and runs. The sniper sees the coward and aims at the fleeing man. He fires, bullet piercing the knee cap, the man falls to the ground, unable to run. Drake ducks behind a wall in the quarry. He could toy with hammer wielding fools all day, but the gun wielding ones were trickier. It is quiet for a minute or two, the only sound was the crackling body of the poor fool who got too close to the Dragon. Drake waits patiently; he has the advantage.

Soon, the Hammerites make their move. The three hammer wielding cultists charge Drake. He unleashes his fire unto the cultists. However, one of them get close enough to hit Drake a few times before he knocks him back and burn the three assailants to ash. The hits would probably bruise a little, but Drake had worse. Much worse. He peaked around the corner. A bullet hit the clay near Drake. Right, cultist with gun. Drake looks around for a way to deal with that cultist without the sniper blowing his brains out. He looks down at the burning remains of one of the cultists. He leans down and picks up the Hammerites’ namesake weapon.

The gunner slowly rounds the corner. Flamethrowers can only go so far. He has a gun. Bullets can go much further than fire can. As the Hammerite rounds the corner, a hammer flies towards him, crashing into his skull. The cultist falls to the ground, skull bleeding. Drake looks at the tower. Just him and the sniper. He has no cover between here and there. He decides to make a dash for the tower. Now, Drake is more like a tortoise than a cheetah, slowly and steady. The sniper finds this amusing and aims for Drake’s leg. He fires, the bullet grazing Drake. Drake, however, seems undeterred. The sniper is caught off guard. He reloads his pipe rifle as quickly as possible. The sniper fires once more, hitting Drake’s arm. Nothing. The sniper seems much more panicked as he fumbles with his gun. He aims once more at Drake. This time he misses. The sniper is in a panic as he fumbles with his gun, dropping his bullets to the floor. By the time the sniper picks up his bullets and reloads his gun, Drake is at the base of the tower and ascending the stairs. The sniper puts away his rifle and pulls out a serrated kitchen knife.

Drake was more accustom to the wounds inflicted by the sniper. Nothing terrible, but they still stung. He injected a stempack into his arm and pulled out his pipe. He lit the grease cover rag and climbed the stairs. The sniper was ready for him. He lunges for Drake, slashing at his armor. Drake repays in kind by breaking the sniper’s arm. The sniper drops his knife. He looks up at Drake. Drake smiles a sinister smile as he takes his pipe to the sniper’s ribs. He wanted the helmet to bring back to show the gang proof of his victory.

Drake takes the helmet off the corpse of the sniper along with two stempacks. He descends the stairs, a job well done. He leaves for Brick. He passes the final cultist. “Sir, please! Help me!”
Drake turns to the downed cultist. He leans over. “Why should I help a ganger like you?”
“Please! I was just trying to help my family! The Hammerites promised better wages than many of the other pit crews! I have a wife and a second child on the way! Please! I do not follow their damned religion!” He was crying at this point. “Oh Meredith, I’m sorry I couldn’t see your face one last time.”
“Alright, alright, stop your bitchin’! I killed Father Jericho, see?” He held up the one-eyed Brahmin skull.
“That isn’t Father Jericho, that’s Bullseye! One of his lieutenants or “disciples” as he so zealously calls them.”
“So, you’re tellin’ me there are more of these bastards?”
“Yes! There are many more!”
“How many more?!”
“Well… with Bullseye dead that leaves Lockjaw, Sister Isabella, Brother Rook, and Father Jericho himself plus the other couple dozen followers he has.”
“What can ya tell me about the four?!”
“I don’t know! I got here a few days ago! I know Father Jericho always wears this featureless white mask.”
Drake sighs and tosses the man a stempack. “Take that stupid outfit off ‘n’ get out of ‘ere. If I find ya were lyin’ to me, I’m gonna kill your sorry ass, ya hear?”
“Y-yes sir! T-thank you sir!”
Drake went back into the Hammerite’s base. He put Bullseye’s mask in his bag. It did not fit his head and had not practical purpose due to it having an eye socket covered, but it made a nice trophy. Drake goes down the left path, ready to kill off the Hammerites.
Drake "Dragon" Esher
Level 1
S:9 P:6 E:9 C:3 I:5 A:3 L:5
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/952595/1/
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ThunderMage
Vault dweller
[ *  * ]
Drake wandered the brick hallway, his lantern lighting the way. Eventually, the hallway came to a large opening. It was an underground cavern. Drake examined his surroundings. They had bridges all over this large opening, some brick, some scrap metal, and a few were plywood. The brick bridges had crude railings, but the scrap metal and plywood had no such luxury. Seemed the further down you went, the less likely the bridge was brick. Drake thought it odd for the people to go to such trouble to make brick bridges when a scrap metal one would do just fine. Hell, a rope bridge would do fine! Drake crossed the bridge. There were lanterns across the walls of the stone tunnels which always descended into the walls, wrapping their way back to the chasm. He crossed two bridges before entering what appeared to be, for lack of a better word, a dining area. There was a large fire pit with dozens of tables and quadruple the chairs. The tables were inconsistent. Some were fine wood, others were pre-war folding tables, and some were poorly made scrap metal tables. The chairs were even more varied. There were six brick buildings around the place. Many had symbols depicting food, however one depicted The Great Sculptor. Drake saw a Hammerite sitting in a chair, face down on a table, surrounded by alcohol. Drake walks up behind him and takes out his pipe.

Drake watched the body burn in the pyre. Was this what it was like to be stealthy? It was… interesting. Drake picked up the alcohol and pocketed it. He walked away with three unopened beers. He tried close the open beers but to no avail. He entered the building that had The Great Sculptor’s icon. Inside was a round wooden table with five chairs. Each chair was wooden but one of the chairs was grander than the others. On the back of each chair was a symbol. A bullseye, a jaw, a butterfly, a rook, and a featureless mask. “Bullseye, Lockjaw, Sister Isabella, Brother Rook, and Father Jericho. Guess he was tellin’ the truth.” Drake smirked. “Well… guess it’s four now, huh?” Drake picked up the chair that clearly represented Bullseye and carried out to the fire pit. He tossed the chair in. Whether he did it out of symbolism or as an excuse to just burn something is up for debate, but one thing was certain, there were only four chairs left in that building.

Drake wandered up to one of the buildings. The symbol on the sign was a house with a clucker leg inside. “Food storage” Drake guessed. Opening the door, he found it was in fact food storage. The room was far too big for the group size. It looked like it could store food for around a hundred people for a year. They seemed overly optimistic. Drake closed the door behind him. He went to another building with a similar symbol. The building was however empty. “They’re very optimistic for a cult. Father Jericho is either a zealous idiot or believes he’s got an angel’s prayer of a chance that he could really get that big.” Drake closed the door and walked over to a building with a clucker leg. “They really like their cluckers.” Drake opens the door and saw two Hammerites cutting up meat. They seem far too busy to notice. Drake walked into the kitchen and approached one of the cooks. The cook looked up to Drake and he instantly takes his pipe to the poor man’s head. The other cook turned to see this, knife already in hand, and charged Drake. The Hammerite slashed at Drake, cutting a bit of his arm. Drake swung his pipe but the cook ducked. The cook stabbed Drake in the leg. Drake shoulder checks the cook, sending him across the room. The knife flew out of the cook’s hand. Drake approached the downed man. He attempted the grab his knife, but Drake took his pipe to his leg, breaking it. The man hollered in pain. Drake slammed his pipe into the man’s skull, silencing him. Drake sat on the cold brick floor, looking over his wounds. The slice to the arm was nothing bad, but that stab to the leg… that was bleeding pretty bad. Drake took a stempack, but also grabbed some rags and wrapped them around his stab wound. The stempack would slow if not stop the bleeding, this would make it faster. Drake counted his current resources. Two stempacks and three beers. “Damn, I really hope these thugs have some chems lyin’ ‘round here.” He sat there for a minute or two before standing up. The place had food everywhere. “Why do they have so much damn food? And where in the hell are they gettin’ it from?” Drake left the building and moved on two the next. The next two buildings were the same, except they lacked any Hammerites.

The last building had a razorback head as a symbol. On the door was a jaw symbol. “Lockjaw’s personal kitchen? Why would Lockjaw of all people get his own kitchen?” Drake opened the door. It reeked of viscera and gore. Drake entered the place. Drake’s lantern was the only thing lighting the place. It was clearly a kitchen, but blood was stained everywhere. “I guess hygiene ain’t Lockjaw’s top priority.” Drake knocked something off the counter. He looked at his feet to see a bone. “Really not a priority. God, this guy eats like a razorback… maybe that’s why he has his own kitchen.” Drake snickered as he crashed into something dangling from the ceiling. It was heavy and something warm and wet fwll on Drake. “Goddamnit!” Drake lifted his lantern to see what he hit. Drake’s heart sank as he realized why Lockjaw had his own kitchen. Dangling from the ceiling was a man, his head cracked open, blood dripping into a bucket. He looked like a merchant. Drake’s jovial take on Lockjaw vanished. His ears twitched as he could hear the faint sobbing of a woman. Drake turned to the direction of the crying and approached slowly. He came up to a pair of metal doors, the handles wrapped with a metal chain and a padlock.
“Samantha, please calm down, we’re going to be ok.” A man said in a hushed voice
“I don’t wanna die… Not like this… Not like this…”
“You’re not going to die. Someone will find us.”
Drake knocked on the door. The woman’s sobs grew louder.
“Samantha! Please! They want us to be scared, just be quiet!”
“They are going to eat us! Oh god! They are going to eat us next! I don’t wanna die!”
“They’ve gotta git past me if day wanna git ya.” Another man said, not trying to be hushed.
“Hey, would ya’ll calm down in there? I’m not with the Hammerites.” Drake said.
No one answered. “Not a trustin’ bunch are ya? I don’t blame ya. I wouldn’t say nothin’ if people where eatin’ my friends.” Granted Drake did not have friends.
Silence. “Whin day open da door, Imma hittin’ da first one who comes in ‘ere.”
Drake rolled his eyes. This was going nowhere. Drake turned around to exit the building when he saw two Hammerites, each one wearing a Razorback skull. One was holding a metal mallet and the other a butcher’s knife. The one with the mallet swung at Drake, connecting with his jaw and, in turn, making him drop the lantern, smashing it. Drake quickly took his pipe and put it in the fire, which set it alight. He swung at the mallet wielding combatant. His pipe connected with the man’s head. Unlike Drake, it made a loud cracking noise and he fell to the brick floor unmoving. The knife wielding man went next, lunging at Drake. However, two things happened. One, Drake moved to the side and two, he slipped on some blood. This sent the man into the brick wall with a resounding crunch. Drake finished off the man by breaking his skull.

Drake stepped outside, ready for whatever would happen next. Five Hammerites stood outside, each one wearing a Razorback skull. One stood out from the rest. He was larger, wore a bone necklace, and had a metal jaw. “I assume you’re Lockjaw.”
The largest Hammerite laughed. “It appears my reputation proceeds me. How did you get past Bullseye?”
“I killed him.”
The five Hammerites laughed. “No really, how did you get past Bullseye?”
Drake sat down his pack and pulled out Bullseye’s mask. The five stopped laughing. “Oh, not so funny now, huh? I’ll be the one laughing when put your head on a spike, you cannibalistic bastard!” Drake tossed the mask and the pipe aside and pulled out his flamethrower. He unleashed a torrent of flames unto the men. Lockjaw and two others quickly moved back, but the other two were caught in the flames. One of the men dropped to the ground and started rolling around in an attempt to extinguish the flames. Drake continued to unleash his flamethrower onto the man. The other ran screaming, hoping to be extinguished. While Drake was busy incinerating the man, another Hammerite clocked him in the side of the head with his fists. Drake was only phased by this as he turned his attention to the assailant. The Hammerites became little more than a screaming ball of fire within seconds. A bullet hit Drake’s flamethrower. The fourth Hammerite cocked the hammer back on his gun and aimed it at Drake. To the surprise of both the Hammerite and Drake, the gun jammed. “Oh goddamnit.” The Hammerite said, realizing that he was going to die due to a faulty gun. Drake approached the Hammerite as he fiddled with his gun. He was right on top of the man as he continued to try and unjam his gun. Drake was ready to pull the trigger when a fist collided with his head, knocking him to the ground.

Drake laid there, slowly getting to his feet.
“Boss!” The fourth Hammerite said, in disbelief. “I thought I was a goner!”
Lockjaw smirked, “I am not leaving a member of my pack to die! Now go tell Father Jericho of the transgressions this beast has committed on these holy grounds.”
“Yes sir” The Hammerite left Lockjaw.
Drake stood up. Lockjaw laughed. “You know I have not met a man of your stature in a long time. I-“
“Don’t give a shit,” Drake snarled. “You treat people like livestock!”
Lockjaw pulled out an over-sized meat cleaver. “Not one for formalities, huh?”
Drake reached for his flamethrower, but Lockjaw denied him by charging him. Drake is knocked to the ground once more.
“I was going to offer a one-on-one melee fight.”
“What? Ya afraid?” Drake said mockingly.
Lockjaw rolled his eyes and swung down his meat cleaver. Drake rolled out of the way and grabbed his pipe. Lockjaw allowed him to get to his feet. Once Drake was on his feet, Lockjaw lunged at Drake. He moved to the side and let Lockjaw sail past him. Lockjaw then spun around and sliced open his armor. He stumbled back, shocked by the cannibal’s speed. Lockjaw went for another attack, but Drake threw his pipe at Lockjaw. He barely got out of the way. Lockjaw laughed at this pathetic attack, “Is that all you got?!” Lockjaw’s smile faded as he saw Drake holding his flamethrower. He unleashed a torrent of flames. Lockjaw jumped back, getting out of range. Drake stopped firing his flamethrower as he chased Lockjaw. Lockjaw stood near the bonfire. He cornered himself between Drake and the bonfire. Drake found this odd and fired his flamethrower. Lockjaw, however quickly jumped onto a nearby table and kicked Drake, knocking him to the ground. Lockjaw seized this opportunity by picking up Drake’s flamethrower and tossing it aside. once more. Drake slowly rose to his feet, which Lockjaw waited patiently for. He charged Drake, thinking he was still stunned. However, Drake dodged and Lockjaw sailed into the bonfire, head first. Drake rushed toward his flamethrower. He had nearly reached it when he was kicked over. Drake rolled over to see who had done so. Lockjaw.

Lockjaw’s clothes were on fire, his razorback skull busted open, revealing his face. Lockjaw was badly scarred and balding. His jaw was crudely put on, as if it was done by himself. The tissue around where his jaw connected with his skull had very noticeable scaring. He had a crazed look in his eyes and laughed hysterically. “No one… NO ONE! Has gotten this far before… do you know how much I MISSED fighting people like you?” He seemed to make no effort in extinguishing himself. “I FUCKING MISSED THIS SHIT!”
Drake was slowly opening his pack.
“For too damn long have I have had my food delivered to me on a silver platter! I have not had the thrill of a hunt in so damn long! Not a hunt this exhilarating! I thank you, but sadly, this hunt must come to an end.” Lockjaw raised his cleaver.
“Yeah, how about you have a drink?!” Drake threw one of the beers at Lockjaw, causing the fire in grow in size. Lockjaw screamed as fire and glass covered his face. He began clawing at his face, dropping the cleaver. Drake quickly picked it up and slashed at Lockjaw’s leg. He fell to the ground in pain. Drake quickly stood up. “Hey Lockjaw.”
Lockjaw looked up. “Eat this.” Drake slashed downwards at Lockjaw’s face. The cleaver imbedded itself into his face. Lockjaw fell to the ground, his body burning. Drake searched Lockjaw. He had the key to the padlock.

Drake unlocked the door. By this point, Drake had collected his gear. A man with a scraggily beard charged Drake and began, infectively, hitting Drake in the chest. Drake stood there. Eventually the man stopped. “Ya wont some more, ya porcine bastard?!”
“I’m not a Hammerite.” Drake finally said.”
“Whot?”
“I killed Lockjaw. Get out of here before more come. Or don’t, I don’t care. Brick is southeast of here.” Drake turned and left. Eventually, the merchants left the slaughter house and fled to the surface. Drake, on the other hand, went deeper into the caverns.
Drake "Dragon" Esher
Level 1
S:9 P:6 E:9 C:3 I:5 A:3 L:5
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/952595/1/
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ThunderMage
Vault dweller
[ *  * ]
Drake crossed two more bridges. He could hear the shouts and the Hammerites below getting ready for him. He descended, ready to fight the Hammerites. Suddenly, he heard something behind him. He quickly turned around to see five men, one of which was the man with the scraggily beard.
Drake sighed. "I told ya, I don't work for the Hammerites."
"We know dat now! We're 'ere to kick some 'Ammerite ass!"
"I prefer to work alone." Drake said.
"I ain't askin' fur ya permission."
"Ya'll are civilians, ya'll just gonna get hurt."
"What makes us different from you?" A ghoul wearing a fedora and a pre-war jacket said.
"I have years of experience."
"I was fighting bandits before your mother was conceived," The ghoul replied calmly
Drake did not have a response. "Plus, you want to fight a few dozen bandits by yourself?"
Drake remained silent. "I did not think so. Now, I do not want any part of your bounty, I just want these cultists removed from this mortal coil. I want them to repent for what they have done to us and the many traders before us."
The five men were an interesting sight.

The ghoul wore a fedora and a jacket that had the symbols "ΠΚΦ" on it. Below the symbols was "ΟΥΔΕΝ ΔΙΑΣΠΑΣΕΙ ΗΜΑΣ." He carried a rudimentary revolver.
Three of the men wore desert clothing. Each one had objects they found upstairs. One had taken two dozen kitchen knives. One took a mallet and had put pans all over his body. The third held some empty bottles and put a pot on his head. The bottles looked cumbersome in his hands.
Finally, there was the bearded man. He was balding and had ginger hair. He tied some rock to his hands.

Drake rolled his eyes. "Alright, but I ain't responsible for your safety."
"Yeah, Yeah, we know." The bearded man said dismissively.
The six continued on their way.

Drake mentally referred to each of the five with a nickname. The bearded man was Beard. The man with the bottles was Bottles. The man with the mallet was Clank. The man with the knives was Knives. And the ghoul was… the ghoul.
The party of six came across a group of three Hammerites setting up a brick wall to barricade one of the tunnels.
"Looks like them cultists be 'fraid of us!" said Beard.
"Not us, him." The ghoul pointed towards Drake. "They do not know of us."
"Tch." Beard seemed disappointed.
"They also do not seem to have noticed us. We can use this to our advantage." The ghoul said in a hushed voice.
Drake began to tune out the ghoul and was thinking of a way to do it himself. There was no way that these people could come up wi-
Drake's line of thinking was interrupted by Knifes throwing three knives simultaneously at the three Hammerites. One took a knife to the face, another had his ear cut off, but a knife missed the third. The second fell to his knees, just behind the unfinished wall, holding the hole that was his missing ear and yelling in agony. The third presented his pipe rifle in response. The ghoul came out from behind the bend in the tunnel and fired his revolver. The bullet caught the Hammerite in the face. Beard then rushed forward, "I got da last one!" he yelled. Drake looked at the ghoul. The ghoul's face clearly showed that that was not a part of the plan. Beard vaulted over the wall. He landed on the other side and began wailing on the Hammerite. Drake did not hide his surprise, and the ghoul made sure that Drake knew that. "Do you still think that we are just a bunch of civiliains?" the ghoul said smugly.
Drake did not respond as he moved forward. "Are you done back there?"
The sound of pulped flesh could be heard. "Almost."
"I think he is dead."
Beard continued, "Never said 'e wasn't."
Drake stood there and waited.
A full minute passed before Beard stood up. He was caked in blood. "Alright, I'm done with 'im."
"Good, now stand back."
Beard complied. Drake pushed the wall and it collapsed. "They didn't even put on mortar."
"Why would they? It is their only way in and out of this place."
Bottles picked up the pipe rifle.
The six carried on.

The group entered a large room. At least two dozen Hammerites were preparing for the incoming dragon by setting up makeshift barriers. "That's a lot o' cultists." Drake said.
"Indeed. But there is an old saying…" the ghoul begins.
"A dead ganger is a gud ganger!" Beard exclaims softly.
"… Quality over quantity."
"I know a gud few riots that'd disagree." Beard replies, clearly disappointed.
"Alright I have a plan" Drake says.
"Really?" The ghoul smiles, seemingly proud, "what is it?"
Drake pulled out the fuel canister on his flame thrower along with the two beers and two grease stained rags.
"What are you doing?" The ghoul asked.
"Makin' Molotovs."
"We are in a cavern system! The smoke could choke us!"
"Yeah, it can also choke them out too. Fire makes people get pretty antsy."
"We could get the jump on them!"
"And we are. I'll throw these two Molotovs, they'll panic. You and Bottles will open fire. The rest of us will charge the disorientated enemy and finish them off." Drake said, finishing the Molotovs.
"You mean Richard?" The ghoul said, confused.
"I love this plan! Let's do it!" Beard exclaimed.
"Alright." Drake pulled out his lighter.
"Wait, I nev-"
Drake lit the cocktails without letting the ghoul finish. He tossed them towards the Hammerites and a scene of utter chaos broke out.

Six Hammerites caught fire from the molotovs. They screamed in agony as the flames slowly consumed them. The Hammerites failed to collect themselves as they were charged. Drake had his flamethrower at the ready and was clearly the slowest of the four charging. Beard was running at a full sprint towards a cultist with a handgun. The gun shook in the cultist's hands as Beard barreled towards him. Beard lunged at the cultist and punched him square in the face. Clank was only slightly faster than Drake, but he was more agile. Clank was dodging and weaving throughout the make-shift defenses. His armor had protected him from a few shots, as bullets pinged off a pot or a pan. Knives was throwing knives left and right, missing more than he hit. Knives was clearly not calm under pressure, as he had only hit three of his twelve intended targets. Drake could not hear Knives, but it was clear he was hyperventilating. Bottles and the ghoul were providing get covering fire. Bottles was a surprisingly good shot. He had hit all three of his shots thus far. The ghoul was also doing well. Despite having a pistol and not a pipe rifle, he still landed four of his six intended shots. Bottles stood up to take a shot when a bullet knocked his pot helmet off. Bottles immediately dropped to the floor in fear of getting shot. The ghoul rushed forward to get closer. Drake came out from behind one of the built walls and unleashed a torrent of flames onto five Hammerites. Four were badly burnt, but one wore a welding mask and thick hide armor. What caught Drake more off guard was the sledgehammer being slammed into his gut, knocking him to the ground. Drake coughed up a bit of blood. His flamethrower had rarely failed him, and it had even scarcer left him wide open.

The Hammerite raised his sledgehammer to bring it down on Drake. However, Clank charged and slugged the attacker in the face with his mallet. The force knocked the attacker back, but they quickly recovered and swung back. The sledgehammer connected with Clank's torso, sending him flying. His make-shift armor buckled under the force of the hammer. Drake recovered himself and grabbed the Hammerite by the legs, pulling them out from under them. Drake clambered onto of him and tore at his mask. Ripping it off revealed that the attacker was actually female, not that Drake cared. Drake began to wail onto the woman's face, his fists making easy work of the exposed skin. Drake finished after his fists themselves were bleeding, as he had turned the attackers face into a pile of gore. He rolled off of the body of the Hammerite, catching his breath. He picked up his flamethrower and moved towards where Clank had landed. Blood stained his chest cavity as the pots and pans were splintered and bent where the force of impact was. His was curled up in the fetal position, blood pooled around him. Drake gave a silent thanks to Clank as he turned his attention to the rest of the Hammerites. The ghoul and Bottles were still providing covering fire, having moved up to a closer position. Beard was having a hell of a time, beating the shit out of everyone he saw. Knives was nowhere to be seen. Whether he had ducked out or was cowering in fear was unknown to Drake. Drake moved on.

The party was losing momentum. The chaos was starting to fade, and the problem was more realized. Bottles popped up to fire when a bullet crashed into his right eye. By some miracle, it stopped at his eye. He fell to the ground, screaming in agony. He held his eye in terror, tears welling up in his eyes, though his right eye only bleed more. The ghoul cursed, as he was starting to get nervous. Beard had bitten off more than he could chew as he was now fighting six Hammerites in hand-to-hand combat. Drake opted to take out the four Hammerites with guns. They were all too busy trying to take out the ghoul, who they had pinned. The ghoul fired, and a bullet crashed into the skull of one of the Hammerites. He had to reload once more, trying to comfort his injured companion. The Hammerites moved up, seeing this as an opportunity. The Hammerites ran past Drake, somehow not noticing the giant of a man. Drake did not think too much of it as he unleashed his flamethrower onto the three. They screamed as the flames consumed them. The ghoul turned his attention to the Hammerites fighting Beard. Beard had managed to get it down to three on one. The ghoul fired at one of the men. It instead hit a different Hammerite. The ghoul did not like missing that close to Beard and opted to hold his fire. Drake put away his flame thrower and pulled out his pipe. Beard kicked the legs out from under one Hammerite and slugged the other in the jaw. The force sent him off his feet. Beard turned his attention to the tripped man and began wailing on him. Drake approached the second man and finished him off. The place laid quiet.

The four regrouped. Beard pulled out three syringes of Med-x and quickly injected Bottles. "There, there, this'll make it all better. "
Bottles was barely awake. He was faintly breathing as the screaming began to hurt. His skin was pale from both fear and blood loss. The only reaction Bottles had to Beard's injection was faintly looking at him. "Patrick, 'ave ya seen Miles?"
The ghoul shook his head. "No, I think he ran away. Either that or he fell off the side somewhere."
"'Ow 'bout Nickle?"
"No, I have not seen Nickle. How about you big guy?" the ghoul was referring to Drake.
"Who?"
"The guy who is wearing all the pots and pans?"
"Oh… He is dead." Drake said as if it was more awkward than sorrowful.
"What?!"
"Yeah, his torso got crushed by a sledgehammer."
"Damnit!" The ghoul held his glabella. "Alright… shit… fine. I am taking Richard to the surface. He need medical attention immediately."
"Alrighty, but I ain't done yet."
"Goddamnit, we did all we could! We are done here!"
"I ain't" Beard responded taking some Med-x and handing the other to Drake. Drake did not hesitate to take it.
"Fine, but I am not letting Richard die for your stupid vengeance!"
"Fine. Go then."
The ghoul stood up and looked across the battlefield. "Shit." He aimed his pistol and fired at a Hammerite who was wearing leather armor and a welding mask. The bullet pierced the glass visor, dropping them to the ground. Two more wearing similar gear rushed out of the tunnel. The ghoul fired twice, missing the first and only grazing the mask of the second. The ghoul holstered his weapon and picked up Bottles. "Good luck you two." And with that, he left.

Beard and Drake rushed forward. Drake pulled out his pipe and lit it. Beard charged the grazed Hammerite. She swung at him with a grunt. Beard rolled out of the way and began punching her. She seemed more annoyed than hurt as she tried to knock him away. Beard just kept dodging out of the way. Drake approached the other Hammerite. She screamed a mighty battle cry as she charged the oversized man. Drake swung his pipe as she got in range. With a loud crunch, the pipe connected with the side of her head. Her mask bent, and the glass broke as she fell to the ground, holding the side of her head where her skull was now cracked. Drake showed no mercy as he began to wail on the downed Hammerite's skull. The pipe was getting bent out of shape with all of this use, but Drake would fix or replace it later. Beard connected his fist with his opponent's jaw, sending her to the ground with a loud thud. The force rendered her unconscious. Beard was ready to finish her off when a hand grabbed his shoulder.
"Oi, baldy, I'm kinda-"A fist connected with Beard's face, knocking him to the ground.
Drake turned to the direction of Beard. A new combatant appeared. She wore tin-plated leather armor and had a butterfly engraved onto her welding mask. She also wore a leather helmet.
"Sister Isabella I assume." Drake said annoyed.
"I prefer 'The Monarch' but yes. I am Sister Isabella, head of the Sisters of the Forge."
"The what?"
"The Sisters of the Forge, The Great Sculptor's greatest warriors."
"And how many are there?"
"Five."
"Right… I assume that the people with the welding masks are yours."
"Indeed."
"Right… so why the fuck does a cult as tiny as you shitheads have an elite warrior department?"
"How dare you! The Great Sculptor is the one tr-"
"You know what, I don't give a shit anymore. I just want every last one of you fuckers dead." Drake readied his pipe.
"You will pay for your impudence!" She charged with her sledgehammer.

Sister Isabella swung at Drake, hitting his pipe, disarming him and sending it sailing away. Drake became more defensive as he dodged out of the way of her attacks. He swung at her, connecting with her chest. This blow knocked the wind out of her long enough for Drake to rush towards one of the nearby sledgehammers. He picked it up and began to swing it a little. He liked the weight of his newly found weapon. He could get used to it. Sister Isabella approached him cautiously. Drake and Sister Isabella stared at one another, waiting for the other to make the first move. Eventually Drake did, lunging at Sister Isabella. She side stepped and retaliated with a swift blow to the chest. Drake barely flinched, as the Med-x had kicked in. He swung back, connecting with her leg, the sound of it breaking could easily be heard. Sister Isabella fell to the ground with a thud but got back on her feet. Drake looked a little shocked. Isabella noticed and laughed, "The Great Sculptor protects my body! I feel no pain when he is with me!"
"Then I will make your death as painful as possible!" Drake said without hesitation. He charged he, but she swung back, knocking him in the chest. While Drake felt no pain, the force knocked his to the ground. Sister Isabella took advantage of this and raised her hammer to finish the job. When she went to swing, she felt a tug. She turned to see what it was. It was Beard holding her hammer. "Sorry lass, ya need dis?" She turned her attention to him and attempted to rip the hammer out of his hands. Beard managed to hold onto the hammer for a good minute before she ripped it from his hands. But he smirked at her. "Alright, ya can 'ave it. 'Ell, 'ave two 'ammers!"
Sister Isabella raised an eyebrow just before a sledgehammer connected with the side of her head, splattering her head everywhere. Sister Isabella's body slumped to the ground. Drake stood there, bloody hammer in hand. "Thanks…"
"Barry, Barry Burns"
"Thanks for ya help Burns."
"Ain't nothin' ya big lug! Now let's finish off dis cult'o'bricks!" Burns turned to the last tunnel, which did not go back into the chasm. Drake manager to get the sledgehammer onto his back and pulled out his flamethrower. "Get behind me, I don't want you to catch fire."
"Barry Burns the Burnin' Brawler." He said jovially.
Drake crack a smile. "Let's keep out the burning part."
Drake "Dragon" Esher
Level 1
S:9 P:6 E:9 C:3 I:5 A:3 L:5
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/952595/1/
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ThunderMage
Vault dweller
[ *  * ]
The final chamber in the cavern was housing. There were dozens of buildings. It seemed as if they had built a settlement. Drake nearly felt bad for a second. Emphasis on nearly. Burns whistled in surprise. "They're really determined to create a society, ain't they? Religious freaks."
"I'm more impressed that this is only on the radar of the gang that owns the mud pit."
Burns snapped to Drake. "Wutdaya mean 'gang that owns the mud pit?' Didn't Brick send ya?"
Drake shook his head. "This is a small-time bounty… or I think it is..."
"Wut? Ya don't know yar own bounty?"
"I didn't read it."
"WUT?! YA DIDN'T READ IT?! 'OW DA FUCK DID YA GIT 'ERE WITHOUT READIN' IT?!"
"The bartender read it to me."

"… So, ya have no idea if 'e made some shit up."
"Huh?"
"This whole bounty could've been made up by 'im."
Drake fell silent.
"I mean, 'e didn't send ya on a wild goose chase, but there might be no money."
"Look I doubt the guy would make up somethin' like that. It seems too detailed for that to be the case."
"Ya? Wut is da bartender's name?"
Drake feel silent once more as he rubbed his chin.
"Wut bar did ya git da bounty from?"
"Ummmmmmm…."
"'Ow did ya git direction to 'ere?"
"Some drugged up guy mistook me for an albino super mutant."
"And ya believed 'im?"
"Look, what's your point?"
"Are ya sure ya're even bein' paid?"
"At this point, I don't give a shit."
Burns was taken aback by this response.
"I came here expecting to kill just another gang. Instead, I found an entire cult. A cult that had members that eats humans. A cult that has a join us or die mentality. If my payment is just the knowledge I helped a few people, that would be fine with me."
Burns smiled. "Ya really ain't a normal bounty 'unter, are ya?"
"I have never considered myself a 'bounty hunter,' so no."
"Then why did ya take da bounty?"
"I needed money."
Burns raised an eyebrow. "But ya just said-"
"I said I don't care if I get paid now. Never said I started out doing this out of the kindness of my heart. Granted, I don't think killin' bandits is ever done 'out of the kindness of one's heart.'"
Burns laughed a hearty laugh. "Alright, alright. Let's bring an end to dis cult!"

Drake and Burns entered the main street of the underground town. Most of the buildings were small brick shacks, containing no more than probably one or two rooms. A few housings seemed to have possibly space for three, possibly four rooms. These houses had the symbols of Bullseye, Lockjaw, Sister Isabella, and Brother Rook. The street lead right up to the largest house in town, which was two stories tall. This building has a depiction of The Great Sculptor above the front double doors. Painted onto the wooden double doors was a featureless white mask. "Looks like this is it." Drake said aloud.
Suddenly, four white cloaked figures stepped out in front of the double doors. "You must be the Dragon everyone keeps speaking about." Said one of the cloaked figures.
"Yes." Drake was getting impatient with all of this chit-chat.
"This is where your journey ends Dragon."
"Oh? What makes ya different from everyone else I've killed up to this point? That includes three 'disciples', by the way'"
"Our devotion to The Great Sculptor is far greater than anyone you have encountered thus far!"
"Then why weren't the four of ya in charge then?"
"Because we are weaker…" One of the Hammerites said quietly
"Exactly, and your faith to your false god doesn't make ya better."
"The Great Sculptor is not fake!"
"Alright. If he's real, then this fire won't burn ya." Drake pulled out his flamethrower.
One of the Hammerite's backed down.
"Ha! You think we are gullible? We know that your forked tongue only speaks lies to deceive us!"
"Excuse me?"
Burns smirked at Drake. "I think 'e just called ya a demon."
"… This conversation is going nowhere." Drake pulled the trigger to the flamethrower and a weak putter came out.
The cultists flinched but quickly realized they were not on fire.
Burns looked concerned. "Uh… Drake? Why ain't yar flamethrower throwin' flames?"
Drake tried again. "Shit." She was out of fuel. Drake quickly put his flamethrower on his back and pulled out his newly found sledgehammer.
The Hammerites pulled out various weapons. One pulled out two hammers attached to one another by a chain. Another pulled out a wrench. The third produced a tire iron. The four and most outspoken of the group pulled out two hammers with nails welded onto the heads. "Seems our 'false' god has protected us."
"God, I fuckin' head you shitheads."

Burns charged the one with a tire iron while Drake approached the leader. The four Hammerites counter charged the two. Burns ducked under the tire iron and went into an uppercut, sending the Hammerite sailing off his feet. The Hammerite with the ham-chucks swung at Burns, who ducked. However, the Hammerite quickly recovered and swung down at Burns, hitting him full on in the head. Blood poured out of his scalp, going into his eyes. "Didn't ya muther evar tell ya not ta fight a blinded Brahmin?!" Burns began swinging wildly at the Hammerite, who easily dodged. Drake swung down at the Hammerite with the wrench, but he side-stepped and swung at Drake's ribs. The wrench hit Drake in the chest, but it seemed to do nothing. Drake swung up with his sledgehammer, sending the Hammerite flying. When he landed, he coughed up blood, as he struggled to get to his feet. The leader came at Drake, hammers furiously swinging. The nails punctured his waist armor, cutting the flesh as well. But Drake did not flinch as he kicked the leader away. The leader fell to the ground, but quickly rolled away. The Hammerite with the tire iron rose to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. He saw his comrade dancing around the enraged brawler. He charged forward, swinging at Burns. His tire iron struck him in the arm, breaking the bone. Burns's arm limply moved. "Why da fuck is me arm not workin'?!" Ham-chucks swung at the confused brawler's leg, which made an audible crunch as Burns collapsed. "What da fuck?! Why am on da ground?!" Blood was now staining his beard. Tire Iron lifted his weapon to finish the job when blood covered him. He stumbled back, wiping the blood out of his eyes. He turned to see what happened. Ham-chucks laid on Burns, his head gone. Drake stood above Tire Iron and swung his blood-stained sledgehammer down. The Hammerite's head exploded. Drake turned to the leader. "Just you and me now."
"I must give you credit Dragon. I can see why the disciples fell to you. You truly are the greatest test we have ever been presented with."
"And I'll be the last test ya freaks will ever have 'cause you'll fail!"
"Oh, we will not fail. You have weeded out the weak, but the strong shall prosper!"
"Well said Brother Gabriel." A new voice said.
Drake turned to the voice and saw man wearing a featureless white mask.
"Father Jericho!" Brother Gabriel and Drake said at the same time, but in two different tones.
"What?! Da bastard's 'ere?" Burns yelled, still blinded.
"I assume you are the Dragon I have heard so much about. You have done well to come this far."
"You're at the end of your rope Father Jericho!" Drake snarled.
"Yeah! Ya tell 'im Drake!"
"I know." He raised his hands. "I accept your demands. We will leave this place."
"Eh?" Burns was taken aback.
"What?! But this land is a holy place! We cannot let this demon destroy this land!"
"Brother Gabriel, we can create a new holy land. He has brought us to our knees. I am doing what is best for the Church of the Great Sculptor."
"Yeah? Well your request of surrender is denied!" Drake snarled.
"Excuse me?" Father Jericho is taken aback. "You came here to make us leave. We are leaving."
"Oh, we're way past a peaceful conclusion! You had your chance, but you denied. I've come too far to let you go with your life."
"That's da spirit Drake!"
"Very well. Brother Gabriel."
"Yes Father?"
"Evacuate anyone left alive. I'll stay and deal with this beast." Father Jericho produced a .32 revolver and a ball-peen hammer.
"Father, I will not abandon you!"
"Brother Gabriel, I am not asking you! The church can live on without me! Go!"
Brother Gabriel turned to leave and looked back at Father Jericho one more time. "Good luck Father." With that he fled.
Burns had fallen silent by this point.

The two combatants stared at one another, neither dared to act
"Just you and me Dragon."
"You and your false god will die on this day."
"Your persecution will only grow our faith."
"Your cult's faith will die with you!"
"I doubt that." Father Jericho raised his pistol and fired at Drake. The bullet hit Drake clear in the chest. He stumbled a little but then roared and rushed forward. "Just like a dragon, a mere bullet will not kill you." He raised the gun again and fired. Drake took another bullet, this time to the shoulder. He did not even flinch. "I see this is going to be much harder than I hoped." Father Jericho retreated back into his home, Drake hot on his heels.
Father Jericho turned and fired at Drake. The bullet caught him in the other shoulder. Drake swung his sledgehammer, hitting Father Jericho full in the hand. His gun flew out of his hand as he held the bloody mess that was his right hand. He quickly got out of the way of Drake's down swing. Father Jericho readied his hammer. "By The Great Sculptor, I will smite you!"
Father Jericho charged Drake. Drake swung his sledgehammer down, but Father Jericho quickly stepped out of the way and swung at Drake's face. The blow knocked Drake's goggles off, the glass breaking. Drake did not seem to care as he swung his sledgehammer up. Father Jericho stepped back, but Drake clipped his mask. His mask shattered, the lower half falling off. Father Jericho was knocked to the floor with such force. He looked up at Drake. His jaw was rotting. Drake stared at Father Jericho. "You're a ghoul! Of course! No wonder you can survive a radstorm with no ill effects! You hide your face to make your 'god' more believable!"
"No, The Great Sculptor made me this way, protecting me from even the harshest of radiation!"
"There are thousands of people like you!"
"But they have not heard the words of The Great Architect himself!"
"Jesus Christ, you're impossible." Drake raised his hammer. As he tried to swing, he felt something tug his hammer. He turned to see a man cover head to toe in tin can armor. He pulled the hammer out of Drake's hands and hits him in the head with the handle, splintering it. Drake falls to the ground. The man rushes over and picks up Father Jericho.
"Brother Rook! I told everyone to leave."
"Father, as much as I respect your selflessness, we would be nothing without you."
"The church would survive without me!"
"No, it would not. If you die, the church dies along with it. You did not exactly write down what The Great Sculptor has spoken to you."
"Fair point. But this is my fault, I should be the one who avenges my flock's slaughter!"
Brother Rook shakes his head. "No, I am a disciple. It is my duty to protect you. The others have already given their lives to protect what we stand for. Do not let their sacrifices be in vain."
"Alright. May The Great Sculptor give you strength." Father Jericho left the building, leaving only Drake and Brother Rook.
"Knew I missed one." Drake said getting to his feet.
"And that shall be your downfall." Brother Rook produced a unique weapon. It was half sledgehammer, half fire axe.

Brother Rook swung the axe side downwards. Drake rolled out of the way, the axe nearly missing him. Drake got to his feet. Brother Rook swung the hammer end at Drake. It hit his forearm and bounced off. Drake swung his fist at Brother Rook's helmeted face. The punch did little more than stun Brother Rook. Drake retreated up the stairs to the second floor. The second floor was a balcony that overlooked the first. It was also clearly Father Jericho's bedroom. Brother Rook quickly followed Drake up the stairs. He swung at Drake, who dodged out of the way. Brother Rook kept swinging at Drake, but Drake kept dodging. Eventually Drake had got Brother Rook right where he wanted him. After Brother Rook swung once more, Drake slammed his shoulder into him. Brother Rook stumbled back, colliding with the banister. He was stunned for a second. Brother Rook looked up to see Drake barreling towards him. Drake slammed into Brother Rook, sending both of them through the railing. Brother Rook's weapon flew out of his hands during the fall. Both hit the ground with a loud thud. Drake was the first to his feet, blood all over him. The Med-X was really working its magic. Drake walked over to Brother Rook's weapon and picked it up. Hammer side down, he approached the downed warrior. Without a word, he swung down repeatedly on the man's chest.

By the time Drake finished, Brother Rook's chest cavity was no more. He removed Brother Rook's helmet and picked up the piece of Father Jericho's mask. He needed evidence of his victory. Leaving the building, he found the body of Burns. He was still breathing, only passed out from blood loss. Med-X was a hell of a drug. Drake put the Hammerites Tool on his back. He did not have a better name for it, so he called it that. He lifted Burns and threw him over his shoulder. Drake went around picking up the masks of the other disciples before leaving. He walked back to Brick, to collect his reward. It felt like he had been an eternity, but it had only been a few hours, as the sun began to set on the horizon. Drake was covered head to toe in blood, tired, and was going to feel like shit in the morning. But Drake did not care, he had defeated the Hammerites. No way in hell they would come back after that beating.



Father Jericho was being tended to by a Hammerite, his hand being bandaged. Brother Gabriel sat on a rock across from him. "I tried to convince Brother Rook of your wishes, but he would not listen."
"I know. He was always the most stubborn of them. However, he gave his life to save mine."
"He might have survived Father."
"I doubt it. The Dragon is far stronger than him." Father Jericho looked over his flock. There were twelve Hammerites, six wore white robes, a Sister of the Forge they found unconscious, one of Lockjaw's herd, Brother Gabriel, and himself. "We shall rebuild."
"Of course, Father."
"For now, we must leave the safety of Brick's outskirts. We are no longer welcome in this place."
"Yes Father."
"But we shall return." Father Jericho clenched his fists, his mangled hand bleeding all over the bandages. "And when we do, we will make the Dragon and Brick regret ever defying the will of The Great Sculptor!"
Drake "Dragon" Esher
Level 1
S:9 P:6 E:9 C:3 I:5 A:3 L:5
http://s3.zetaboards.com/The_wastes/topic/952595/1/
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Cewebwalz
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Henshin a go-go baby
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
I read this roleplay twice and it’s clear you put a lot of effort into it from the length and story elements. I like how genuine Drake is in his ‘idiocy’, he can’t read and speaks in an almost broken dialect of English, but is wise and rather genre savvy. The segment where the five chairs are next to the fire was clever, and you often would subvert my expectations within the cavern. I enjoyed a lot of other sections of the roleplay, some of the fight scene sections and the descriptive language utilized throughout was very entertaining. The section where Drake free’s the prisoners and one tries to beat him up was rather neat, and I liked how Drake didn’t really have any confidence in if the job was genuine or not. An honest, interesting character altogether.

Burns (I hope I didn’t mess up his name) was a cool side character, and he and Drake worked together as an interesting team. The amount you added to Hammerite culture and religion was impressive, I’m really glad you took them seriously as a society. The cult leader especially was interesting, I really like the bit where he wasn’t left behind because there was no scripture. Your dialogue and character speech was really good at times, and maybe a little lazy at others.

Drake didn’t actually finish off the Hammerites, you kept them as a small band that could serve as future villains or enemies in the wasteland. I really liked this, and now even with his mask removed the cultists that remain still worship him. The villain and gang has evolved, so you claimed the bounty and forced them to lose the idiot stick in future encounters.

Now this is the part of the critique where I don’t say anything good and sap all your confidence. I’m sorry, please continue writing here and I’ll gladly read anything you put out.

You write dialogue exclusively by breaking paragraphs once a character starts speaking and then utilizing almost no descriptive verbiage to spice it up. People can speak in a myriad of different ways, and people focus more than on just someone’s face to gauge interactions with each other. I’ve heard the proper way to write dialogue is to break up a paragraph once a new character starts speaking, but that certainly doesn’t mean make every line of spoken dialogue it’s own line break. We’re imitating most written works here, but certainly not movie or play scripts.

We also try and utilize real, human anatomy here. Hammers are difficult to flinch off, usually they crack bones or break fingers. Stimpacks don’t heal people instantly like the games, and also are rare and valuable. Mud brick workers almost certainly don’t carry them on their person. Bullet wounds are life ending or horrific to treat and experience, they should be taken seriously.

You killed more faceless goons here than I could count. Bricks population likely took a strong hit, I imagine the Hammerites mainly recruited from the mud pits there. Word likely didn’t reach town that you massacred quite a few peoples friends and relatives in town, so Drake can consider himself lucky there. Along with this I feel like the band of strangers Drake free’d armed themselves and worked as a unit were almost a deus ex machina, they didn’t really ever explain themselves and it was never answered how they got captured in the first place.

Grammar as a writer could improve, as well as reducing overall sloppyness by proofreading, reading, or writing more in general. I would try to retain as much as your original style as possible while greatly improving your writing, a tall order, but I seriously think the only thing stopping you from excellence is a little hard work. PM for specifics, I am not exactly an expert in this field.

The hammerites were the most inept gang of goofy goobers you could run into. Drake only survived because people charge into a flame thrower even though throwing a hammer at someone’s face is a pretty good attack. Bullets get lodged and jam in their chambers before striking him. The leader of them all is armed with a .32 pistol, and yet doesn’t just shoot Drake the moment he’s seen. The man with the pipe rifle overseeing them all fails to hit Drake. The guns used within the confined chambers don’t deafen anyone with their loud gunfire. The hammerites spend months working on this tunnel system and never figure out any defenses.

Like I said earlier, I couldn’t count the amount of incapacitated enemies Drake ran into. Our setting is mostly low end, there are many characters on site who don’t have a kill count as high as Drake and have had a dozen roleplays. I would recommend that you continue writing what and how you want to write above all, but it doesn’t make Drake look strong when he takes out the Hammerites.

It makes the Hammerites look really weak. I would pay much more respect to the enemies your characters encounter, ooze detail into all of their appearances and visuals, even the mooks. Drake looks much more badass and respectable when he is clawing his way through and past highly capable enemies, rather than action movie level mooks. Especially when they are the entire focus and set piece of the roleplay. I really appreciate the hard work you put into this roleplay so your still getting the bounty rewards, but in the future I would focus put much more focus on the fine details.


Quote:
 
NOTICE: HAMMERITES

A group of masons has set up not far from Brick, and assembled a temple of bricks guarding a pre-claimed mud pit they've 'reclaimed' for themselves. They are pestering the mud crews and oven teams to join their little group constantly and brick was willing to overlook them at first until one of their recruiters was overheard in town. The gang recognised for controlling the pit have piled together a reward for anyone willing to eliminate the Hammerites via any and all means. As it stands, the Hammerites are a meek order, and do not pose a major threat unless in large numbers.



Quote:
 
Rewards/Bounty

2 Large Hides - Animal skins that are caked in the dust of the earth, wipe off the dirt before you use these to bargain.
+75 Brick Reputation - Drake's run in with the bartender and subsequent claiming of the bounty quickly becomes town gossip. This murder idiot savant not a bounty hunter but collects bounties sure is a curiosity, they say.
'Hammerites Tool' (Tier 1 Baseball Bat, GC) - The Hammerites Tool is the go-to weapon of the Hammerites order. A cross between a sledgehammer and a fire axe, with one side made for hammering and the other for chopping, it isn't an entirely feasible weapon, but still useful, even if it's rather heavy.
Edited by Cewebwalz, Feb 27 2018, 12:16 PM.
Jesse Winters - Penitentiary Pugilist
8(+2).5.7.5.5.8.4, Level: 4 -HC-

Grace Van Vliet - Indie Incinerator
5.7.7.5.5.4.7, Level: 3 -HC-
Quote:
 
Lmgthev:� Like tbh I agree CP is not the golden boy at all
Lmgthev:� You're like John Candy from Cool Runnings
Lmgthev:� Washed up has been who teaches the newcomers the trade� :D

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